


Where Did You Go

by AnonymouslyDead



Series: Mirroring [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Autistic Will Graham, Daydreaming, F/M, Imaginary Abigail, Imaginary Hannibal, M/M, Mind Palace, Traumatized Will, Will doesn't do well to the domestics, Will had mixed feelings, Will is not ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:42:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24534028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonymouslyDead/pseuds/AnonymouslyDead
Summary: How Will dealt with the three years away from Hannibal with his new family
Relationships: Will Graham & Abigail Hobbs, Will Graham & Abigail Hobbs & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham & Wally Graham, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Molly Graham
Series: Mirroring [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1773121
Comments: 6
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

Some days were better than others. Molly was fine...more than fine. She was an outdoors kind of woman who hated being cooped up for too long. Over the course of their relationship, she joined him out into the woods, off fishing in some quiet lake, or chasing his herd of dogs. She slotted herself almost effortlessly into her spot beside him, and it was great.

And, Wally was a delight. He was a curious young boy interested in everything from the desk Will made his colorful lures on to the line of forensic textbooks growing dust in the living room. It was charming in a way, the wide eyed innocence of youth. Will was happy to answer what he could or teach Wally things like how to get Winston to play dead. He’d feel such warm joy watching Wally repeat the gestures Will showed him with a treat in hand, watching Winston happily respond to his now son, and watching the smile spread on Molly’s face when Will finally caught her watching. 

Those days he could feel the love and joy almost like a tangible presence over his life. It oozed from every action and seemed to fill the air. Will would think he could get drunk on it, drunk on the peace of his new life. 

Those were the better days. 

There were days he couldn’t- no, shouldn’t- complain about. Nothing is wrong, far from it. He went to work teaching, came home, greeted Molly and Wally, ate dinner, went to bed…over and over again. 

He was bored. He felt stagnant in these peaceful domestics. He could feel a mix of emotions from Wally and Molly over months, everything from joy to anger to sadness but never boredom especially towards their situation. 

Guilt would gnaw at him in these times. Everything had finally settled in his life and yet all he can think about is how dull it felt. How going through his days felt like a slurry of the same, bland motions like wading through an endless stream. 

One of these times, Will expressed how he had felt to Molly. Molly had given him a caring look filled with her love and concern. She had blamed it on his life beforehand, one she had heard of extensively but didn’t elaborate on. That was Will’s past that he was determined to keep there, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t haunt him. 

Will could see where she was coming from. The trauma from all he’d seen was enough to scar him for the rest of life, and it certainly worked its usual ways. More than once, Molly and Wally were woken up by the throes of Will’s nightmares and the late nights he pulled to avoid them. 

It only got worse when he started noticing the patterns though. 

Patterns were a comfort in a crime scene. Patterns in behavior and the missing pieces ensure that there is a method to the madness, that the horrible acts committed leave behind a string of clues in the patterns that assure the culprit will be captured. 

Patterns in his home though were unsettling. He doesn’t want to add the gentle sway of Molly practicing classical pieces on the piano. He doesn’t want to add those easy smiles aimed at him when she caught on with a piece, weaving it into a haunting melody. He doesn’t want to add their meetings in the kitchen with their shoulders brushing as they moved past or those late nights drinking beer and talking about everything under the sun.

Will tried to shake off the notion, but there was also Wally being forced into the mix. He certainly doesn’t want to add Wally. How Will watched before his own eyes as Wally’s skepticism over mom’s new boyfriend morphed into a genuine love and affection. How ready and accepting he soon became towards Will to be his new father figure. All their fishing trips wading out into streams as step-father and step-son just spending the day casting their lines. 

It put a bitter nostalgia on his tongue as he put the pieces together. He wondered if things would have been this calm if he would have made a different decision back then. Would they be a big happy family?v A part of him said no. It would be nothing like this. That would’ve crashed and burned just like everything in his past. 

Another part wished he would’ve had the chance to see it to the end. 

But then, Molly would pull out her hunting rifle some days, one where he can hear the abng ring in his ears and the damage play out before him. Molly would leave home all day and come back from a hunting trip with her father. He would pick out the ghost of a splatter of blood on her shirt and the roughly wrapped packages of deer meat that piled up in their freezer. He would pick up the small smiles of quiet pride over the successful hunt and the almost sacred way the meat gets cooked afterwards into a big meal-

He married a killer. The thought was silly and exaggerated, but it affected him nonetheless. He’d dance his way around Molly those days to strange, hurt looks, quiet but screaming why all the same. 

Another painful pattern to add to the case. 

But the worse was with Wally. He was so small and fragile, and Will was hyper aware of that fact. He absolutely hated when something happened and Wally came crying into the house with an oozing wound. It was never serious, usually a shallow cut from tripping or an accident he had from playing in the woods. 

That didn’t stop the oppressive anxiety in his heart that froze him in place, screaming just how useless he was. How he could just sit and panic while a child suffers more than they ever deserved. 

It was a shame that he didn’t want to be around Wally on those days either. Will tried not to think about it when he sought out an escape. 

He found it out in the woods actually. He started out the door, declining Molly’s offer to join. He continued on his own to a quiet clearing and started to pace in a circle, thinking and pondering the situation until-

“Will, what a pleasure to see you again.” Hannibal greeted. He stood off to the side of his rough circle, dressed far too well to be out in the woods. He watched Will pace with the same look one might eye a caged animal at the zoo. 

‘Hannibal.” Will whispered. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Hannibal asked. Like that, Will could imagine Hannibal's office replacing the woods around him. He felt a certain nostalgia along with a certain sickness in his stomach.

“I’m having certain...issues.” Will started in his mind even if the sight of the man turned Will’s stomach. Hannibal nodded. “You’re having negative associations with your family as a result of your trauma. That’s fairly normal considering what you’ve been through.”

“What you put me through.” Will bit back. Once again, Hannibal nodded. 

“Your unsolved resentment towards me may be a factor in your problem.” 

Will bobbed his head to the sides. “I suppose.” 

“Might I suggest trying to work things out? Something like this may help you to remove negative connotations and ease you back into your life.” Hannibal suggested. “We were friends once after all.” 

“That was long ago. I promised I would never think of you again.”

“And yet, you come to the memory of your ex-friend to explain your troubles. That’s not very healthy, Will.” 

“Tell me about it.’ Will breathed out. He paused his pacing and thought over his for a moment. Like that, the office and Hannibal were gone, and he was back in the woods alone. 

It wasn’t a bad idea, and Will’s head took to it well enough. It started out when he was reading through a crime thriller novel in his living room. Though, reading was a stretch to claim. The print was small, the writing dry, and the case was pretty straightforward. It was a slog to read through a page and lead to his mind drifting off.

“The killer is the butler.” He heard Hannibal say. He saw Hannibal sitting in the rocking chair across from him, a slight smirk of his face. 

“Spoilers.” Will said back in his mind with a dry sarcasm. “When did you become interested in crime novels?”

“Since I became an image in your head.” Hannibal said plainly. Will could hear his voice perfectly in his head, and the thought made Will laugh.

“I suppose you’re right.” 

‘Tell me Will. Why would an ex-profiler be reading crime novels? Isn’t that a little redundant?” 

“Certainly makes pointing the inaccuracies out a lot easier. I mean I wish things were wrapped up so neatly in real life like these stories.”

Hannibal raised a brow. “No happily ever after for you, Will?”

Will chuckled. “Those don’t exist, Hannibal. The best we can hope for is-”

“Complacency?” Hannibal shook his head slowly. “That’s not attractive, Will. Molly will be displeased.” 

“What-” Will suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder.The gesture almost felt like an attack as he’s ripped from his thoughts. He jumped with a noise, searching for the source. Molly gave him a strange look.

“...Are you alright?”

Will shook his head. “Yeah, I just got lost reading.” He waved the paperback in his hands. “You know, Barney Mathews.” 

Molly nodded slowly. Will could see her turning it over in her head. “Well, dinner is ready if you want it.” 

Dinner was salmon and mashed potatoes. The fish is blander than he would like, and the potatoes were the kind you made from a box that always had a strange texture. Eating it felt dull and repetitive, the memory of dinners past having spoiled his tongue to more exciting foods.

Around the table, Molly and Wally ate without problem. Will frowned and tasked himself with doing the same.

Except, his mind drifted off again.

“Boxed mashed potatoes? On my table?” He imagined Hannibal saying like he had committed a sin against God. He sat beside him in the fourth empty seat at their little dining table, staring at him in annoyance. Will wanted to laugh at the absurdity..

“Oh, someone’s in the doghouse.” Abigail chimed in. She walked around the table, a playful smile on her face. That time, Will can’t help the laugh that escaped his mouth. 

“What are you laughing at?” Wally asked. Molly just stared at him with another look of concern. He was going to get questioned about this, he knew. 

“Oh, it’s just this joke I remembered in that book.” He lied. He looked down at his plate. He had managed to eat most of the food in his thoughts, so he excused himself. He scraped what was left in the trash, secretly glad to be rid of the bland food.

But then, the next night rolled around. They had chicken and rice with a gravy. The food tasted more flavorful than yesterday, but the food still wasn’t satisfying. Something about it felt monotonous like the dozens of other times Molly made rice and gravy.

As he robotically ate, he imagined. Abigail in their empty seat with her own plate. She pushed it away with a look of disdain on her face. 

She too had grown accustomed to a certain menu after all. 

And then, Molly made a gumbo. Will actually got excited about that; he felt a craving for it as she cooked the stew. It was one of his favorite things that she made.

That is until he tasted it. It tasted disappointing. Too watery, too familiar, too something! “Seriously, Will?” Hannibal asked. This time, he looped around their dining table as if on his way to meet Will. “Will I have to become tangible to cook a suitable meal?” 

No. The next day, Will had dug around the internet for a recipe. It took him a long time to decide on something that would actually taste good and with comprehensible ingredients. He finally decided on one, picked up the ingredients, and went about prepping. 

“...Now, mix them all together.” He heard Hannibal say as he worked. He imagined Hannibal looming over him, watching him mix together a dough. “Not so rough now.”

“Won’t make much of a difference.” 

“A gentle, caring hand can make a world of difference.” Hannibal countered. He moved his hand as if to fix his apparently subpar technique. Will adjusted how he was stirring to catch some of the flour crusted along the side of the bowl. 

He continued working the recipe’s steps. Beside him, Hannibal instructed him on what to do as he moved in a focused daze. Soon, the filling- consisting of bacon, onion, and potato fried in butter- was sizzling on the stove. Then, he worked the dough into wrappers and stuffing them. He struggled quite a bit to cut out appropriate shapes and then shape them as the recipe instructed. Beside him though, Hannibal shaped them into a perfect recreation. He looked up from his perfect smile and sent him an encouraging smile, the ghost of one Hannibal had given him once when Hannibal drew him into playing sous chef in his kitchen. 

Will felt a sinking feeling in his stomach at first. He moved his eyes to the lumpy dumplings he had made, sitting on a plate. He set up a pot of water boiling on the stove and then plopped them in. 

The more he thought about that smile though, the more nostalgic he was for it. Will shook his head, trying to rid that feeling from himself. How could he want that again after everything? 

He doesn’t want to think too long about that thought. He busied himself plating the dumplings and serving them for dinner. Molly raised her eyebrows in surprise while Wally poked his dumplings with his fork.

“What is all this?” Molly asked. 

“A recipe I found. Wanted to experiment in the kitchen.” Will lied. He sat down to his own plate and dug into one of the dumplings. He sighed as the flavors hit him. Much better. Still not quite what he wanted, but it was better. 

“Damn, I didn’t know you could cook Will.” He imagined Abigail remarking. Meanwhile, Hannibal had taken the seat beside him once more. He ate one of Will’s dumpling’s. His eyes sparked with something as he slowly swallowed. 

“I haven’t eaten virtiniai since I was a boy.” Hannibal admitted. Will didn’t know that for sure, but the recipe had claimed it was Lithuanian. He imagined Hannibal smiling softly at him. “A taste of home. Thank you, Will.” 

“Mom, this tastes weird.” Wally said through a mouth of food. Will \wanted to chide him; insulting the food at the table was rude after all. Instead, Molly stood up.

“Don’t worry, bud. We have chicken nuggets in the fridge.” 

Molly made her way across the kitchen. Will stood and followed her, pulling a pan from their cabinets. 

“Sorry, I should’ve thought that through more. Kids have tricky palates.” 

Molly shrugged it off with a good natured smile. Will doesn’t know if he is imagining it, but it looked a little forced.


	2. Chapter 2

“Will.” Molly started. Will knew exactly what was coming, the conversation he had been dreading. Like a deer in headlights, he felt dread pump into his system.

She started off gently, pointing out how focused he seemed on not focusing. She pointed to the few instances she had to make a few tries to rip him from his focus when he had been working through his new cooking obsession. Will dismissed it as a case of hyperfocusing, and it wasn’t a lie. 

It was just that he was hyperfocusing on something else, on Hannibal. He had become intimately aware of Hannibal's presence in his head as he picked fancy new recipes to try out. His memory mingled around Will’s new collection of fancy oils, spices, and fresh ingredients. The ghost of his touch lingered on Will as he worked to create something to remind Will of his warm smile. 

It was comforting in a way. As much as Will didn’t want to admit it, he missed Hannibal. He missed having someone who seemed to understand him, but he couldn’t say that. Not without sounding out of his mind. So when Molly pointed out all the strange expressions, the snippets of one sided conversation, and the curious nature of his cooking obsession, Will dismissed it a little harshly. The last point especially rubbed him the wrong way as if Molly could see right through him and knew exactly what his problem was. 

She got close though. Her own tone got more pointed as she recounted an incident Wally had told her of. Two weeks ago, Will had brought Wally along on a fishing trip to a little stream a few miles away from their house. Will remembered zoning out to the sound and feel of running water. Suddenly, Abigail was standing next to him, giving him a pleasant smile as she cast her fishing line. Will smiled back. 

He had slipped up in that moment and called Wally Abigail. It took him a second to realize what he had done, and he was left with Wally looking at him strangely. He had asked who Abigail was. Will explained as gently as he could, dancing around the facts that a young kid shouldn’t know. He had had hoped that that would be the end of it. 

He guessed he was wrong, because Molly was giving him a pointed look of concern, something that said something was wrong and she wouldn’t let up until she knew what it was. 

How was he supposed to tell her when he didn’t want to dig into his own intentions? He didn’t want to examine why he had grown so attracted to the memory of Hannibal and what that meant. He didn’t want to think of why he held Abigail’s memory so close either. 

It was, because he knew. He was in mourning for Abigail and his relationship with Hannibal. 

“Will, are you ok?” Molly asked the million dollar question. Will doesn’t give the answer though.

Instead, they end up exchanging a few angry snips that Will will have to answer for later. For now though, he locked himself in the bathroom. He stripped and started showering, hoping to wash the emotions of their conversation from himself.

“Something troubling you, Will?” Hannibal asked. Will felt a little strange, thinking of Hannibal standing before him while he stood in the shower. He supposed he’s done stranger things though. 

Besides, it matched the Murder Husband title he had earned. 

He huffed in amusement, but a part of him felt like punching Freddie Lounds for that. The other part of him just felt sad. Maybe even in mourning.

“Will?” Hannibal asked. Because even in his mind, he demanded attention. He imagined Hannibal closing the space between them. In a normal situation with his clothes on, he’d be unnerved by the prospect. In his mind though, this was fine, his mind supplied. It was fine if it was Hannibal. They had grown...intimate after all. 

Had. The word was emphasized in his mind. That mourning in his mind made itself known, revealing his true emotions.

“No, I think you ruined my ability to have a normal relationship.” Will said softly, losing the words to the patter of water around him. Hannibal understood though. He always did. 

“I’m sorry, Will.” 

“No, you’re not.” Will thought. “It’s what you wanted.” 

Hannibal doesn’t argue. Instead, Will imagined Hannibal’s hand caressing his cheek, giving him a look of sorrow. It was the closest he ever got to an apology, and it came with the sting of a knife. 

Will thought that if he thought hard enough he could capture a moment before that. When Abigail and Hannibal were safe and sound with him. It wasn’t like Will wasn’t trying. 

Will sighed and bumped his forehead against the shower wall. 

“Will, I’m still here.” Hannibal said. He could still feel the warm of his hand on his face. It was nice. 

“You’ll see me again. I promise.” 

Will thought he’d go crazy before then, caught between his haunting memory and the reality of his life. But no. The FBI called him about the Red Dragon case. He knew the whole mission would go wrong the second they uttered Hannibal’s name. 

He said yes. 

Molly wasn’t happy with his decision. She didn’t think he’s stable enough for this. Will appreciated the sentiment, but she doesn’t stop him from leaving for the meeting spot he was given to be prepared and shipped out in a police cruiser. 

Will was amazed at how he felt mulling around with his police escorts. It was a strange mix of freedom and nostalgia. 

He felt as if he had returned home for the first time in a long time if he was being honest. It was confirmed for him when Hannibal pulled up in a cruiser, giving him a smug smile that looked straight out of his daydream despite his cotton jumpsuit and his disheveled hair.

With that, Will got in the car. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comment what you think and hit kudos if you liked it!


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